


It’s All Chris Martin’s Fault, Basically

by maybegasoline



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Double Penetration, M/M, Rimming, Rough Sex, d/s dynamics, kink!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 20:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybegasoline/pseuds/maybegasoline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard Way always tops. Except for when he bottoms. And when he bottoms, he bottoms with a capital B. Then there’s no time for slow or loving or caring; that just doesn’t do it for him. He needs to be pounded into the floor/mattress/wall/whichever surface is closest so hard he sees stars, so hard he won’t be able to take a step the next day without feeling the burn. It drives Frank Iero crazy, but secretly, he doesn’t really mind that at all.</p><p>(Or: This is a tale in which Frank and Gerard have a lot of sex on tour, and all of it is indirectly Chris Martin’s fault.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	It’s All Chris Martin’s Fault, Basically

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



Gerard Way doesn't usually bottom. 

He likes to fuck, slowly and tenderly, with loving kisses and deep thrusts, feeling hot tightness clench around his cock. It's what he does best, at least according to himself - because hips like Gerard's were made to fuck. It's his purpose. And Frank loves to bottom, so it's really a perfect match, because Frank's favorite thing is Gerard's cock. More specifically Gerard's cock inside Frank's ass. 

So naturally, Gerard has over the years fucked Frank against every surface in their tourbus, in approximately two thousand hotel rooms, even more rest stop bathrooms, almost every venue dressing room they have ever been in, and at least once on every continent. (Except for on Antarctica. But that one doesn't really count.)

Point is, Gerard Way always tops.

Kind of.

Because there are days when all he really needs is a cock in his ass, taking him hard and rough and fast, so hard in fact he'll be feeling it for _days_. Because when Gerard Way wants to be fucked, he wants to be _Fucked_ with a capital F. When Gerard Way wants to be fucked, there's no time for slow or loving or caring; that just doesn't do it for him. On those days, it doesn't really matter how much they love each other, how much they care, because all Gerard really wants is to be taken hard, and he doesn't want to hear how fucking beautiful he is. He just wants cock. Preparation and lube? Hell no. He needs to be pounded into the mattress/floor/wall/whatever surface is closest so hard he sees stars, so hard he won't be able to take a step the next day without feeling the burn. He wants to bleed and bruise and burn, and he never wants the pain to go away. So basically, when Gerard Way wants to be fucked, he's a fucking cockslut and proud of it.

(Frank Iero, while he really loves bottoming, doesn't mind that Gerard wants to change things up a bit once in a while.)

~ ~ ~ ~

Gerard throws his shirt to the floor and lies down on the couch in the dressing room, dragging Frank on top of him impatiently. Frank goes willingly, of course; after all, he let Gerard drag him in here with only fifteen minutes to go before they're due on stage, and it's not like he didn't know what Gerard wanted then, so why should he complain now? Getting off before a show is usually the best way to warm up (they know this because they've got a lot of practice), so later when Ray or Mikey or Lauren, their tour manager, yells at them for being late to stage call, they can claim they did it only to improve their performance.

When their lips crash together they moan in unison, and hands scramble through clothes with haste. Frank bites down on Gerard's bottom lip, sensing that this is one of _those_ days, and the moan that falls from Gerard's chest is, to say the least, indecent.

"Frankie," he gasps, "I just really need -", and Frank cuts him off with a kiss, because he knows just what Gerard needs, and with a practiced move he flicks Gerard's pants open.

"Get your fucking pants off," he smirks against Gerard's lips, and sits back on the end of the couch and watches as the singer struggles to get the (honestly way too fucking tight) jeans off, and in the meantime he easily slides his loose cut jeans over his hips and kicks them to the floor. 

Gerard's pants slowly come down and reveal a bare ass, and the breath hitches in Frank's throat because of fucking _course_ Gerard's not wearing any underwear. He really should have guessed. And then he doesn't really have time to think about that, because Gerard flashes him a knowing smirk and lies back down on the couch again, and then all Frank can really do is drape himself over him and kiss him breathless.

"Tell me what you want, Way," he says huskily, because he knows that on days like these Gerard needs to be dominated, mastered, conquered, and he nudges a finger to Gerard's entrance, not pushing in, just teasing, and Gerard shudders.

"I just really fucking need your cock inside me right fucking now," he breathes impatiently, "and get that fucking finger away from my ass and just _fuck_ me already!"

Because when Gerard Way wants to be fucked, there is never any time for preparation or lubrication. He wants it raw, and Frank knows it. So he wastes no time, just sits back to bend Gerard's legs over his shoulders, grabs his own cock by the base and quickly guides it into Gerard with a hard push, before Gerard has time to reconsider. It’s tight, impossibly tight, but he doesn’t stop to let Gerard adjust; he just thrusts in again and again and it’s how they both want it.

And Gerard pushes his hands up Frank's t-shirt and claws at his back with desperate hands, gasping for breath as if he is drowning, and arches his back to meet with Frank's firm thrusts. It hurts, of course it does, because he rarely bottoms and when he does, he doesn't like to prepare - but this is just what he needs. He throws his head back, exposing his milky white throat to Frank, who ceases the opportunity and bites down on the warm pulse in his throat with a guttural moan, and Gerard loves it. Frank pounds into him almost with rage, in a frenzy, and Gerard doesn't care that he probably is screaming and moaning and making way too much noise, because everything is perfect.

"You feel that?" Frank asks in an authoritative voice, and pulls all the way out before slamming in hard again, and Gerard's breath hitches in his throat. "You feel the burn already, baby? You're going to feel it for _days_ , every step you take is going to remind you of me and what I can do to you, and you just love it. Don't you love it, when I fuck you raw like the little slut you are?"

Because Frank knows that on _those_ days, dirty talk is the way to go. Usually, they're both all for whispering sweet nothings and "I love you"'s and terms of endearment to each other when they make love, but not when Gerard is in this mood.

And Gerard moans, like the good boy he is, "I love it," and Frank grins and picks up the speed again even _more_ because they're in a hurry and he expects someone to come banging on their door any time now. 

"You fuck me so good," Gerard gasps, breathless, and he clenches his muscles tightly around Frank's cock not because he wants to pleasure Frank, but because when Frank slams in next time it's even _more_ difficult and tight, and Gerard swears he can feel the burn right down to his _toes_.

The couch slams against the wall as they move, creaking and banging, but they don't care. On days like this they really couldn't care less if anyone hears them, or if anyone knows what's going on. On days like this, nothing matters but them.

Frank works hard, thrusting deep inside Gerard with all his force, and since this isn't how they usually do it he doesn't exactly hit Gerard's prostate with every thrust, because he doesn’t do this often enough to know exactly where it is but it doesn't matter; Gerard takes pleasure in the sole feeling of getting fucked so hard it feels like he's being split apart in half. The occasional push against his spot is honestly just a bonus. 

When Gerard inches a trembling hand down towards his own dick, Frank slaps it away harshly with a glare and halts all his motions as an effective way of punishing him. "You will come untouched," he says slowly through clenched teeth, trying hard to remain still though all he really wants to do is keep pounding deep into Gerard, "and you won't fucking come until I say so. Actually, we’ll have to wait and see if I let you come at _all_ before the show tonight."

Gerard stutters out an apology, eager for Frank to keep on going again, and when the guitarist resumes his motions there is no holding back. Gerard pushes down with every thrust of hips, meeting Frank halfway, and if there's an angry bang on the door it goes by unheard. His eyes roll back in his skull in pleasure/pain/sheer awesomeness when Frank reaches down and forces first one finger, then another all the way into Gerard beside his cock, and the stretch is almost too much, _almost_ , and it's completely out of the blue for the both of them when Gerard screams out and comes all over himself, _way_ too soon.

“That was _not_ what we agreed, you dirty little slut,” Frank says sharply, biting down hard on Gerard’s jaw in punishment, and Gerard lets out a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes in a breathy whisper, clenching his muscles around Frank as sort of a peace offering.

And then Gerard just lays there, panting and letting Frank use him as if he’s a fucking hooker, and after a few more deep thrusts Frank can't hold back either; Gerard tightens so perfectly around him as the hot spurts of Gerard’s come splatter on their chests, and burying his teeth into the spot where Gerard’s neck meets his collarbone, Frank keeps thrusting hard and eagerly and lets his orgasm rip through him. He sucks hard and clenches his jaw tight to keep from making noise, and Gerard tastes like sweat and cheap cologne.

“Fuck,” says Gerard in a hoarse voice after a few seconds when Frank’s hips have finally stilled, and that pretty much sums it all up. And then before they have a chance to catch their breaths, there’s a bang on the door and their manager is shouting at them:

“Get your asses out here immediately, you needed to be on stage, like, five minutes ago!” and Lauren sounds really mad, like, it’s not fun and games anymore, and Frank and Gerard share a frightened glance and immediately jump up from the couch to get their clothes on because when Lauren sounds like this, she’s not to be messed with.

“Fucking hell,” Gerard curses, and grabs his t-shirt from the floor and uses it to wipe up the come on his chest. Frank stands by and watches with a smirk, already dressed (because baggy jeans are _awesome_ ), as Gerard tosses the sticky, gross shirt to the floor again and struggles to slide his skintight jeans over his sweaty legs, moaning and whimpering as he twists and moves to get the pants on; he’s obviously already feeling the burn. Frank wants to reach out and touch his bare skin and maybe push a couple of fingers inside him again just to get to hear Gerard whimper and moan, but he resists the urge because that wouldn’t make anything better; they’ve got all the time in the world later.

Once Gerard has properly put on his pants, he comes over to wrap his arms tightly around Frank’s neck, pushing their cocks together tightly. Frank shakes his head with a smile but holds Gerard in his place, and Gerard sighs.

“You don’t know how much I want you to fuck my mouth right now,” he says sadly, and Frank pecks his lips.

“No time, I’m afraid,” he smirks, and then Lauren comes bursting into the room, a hand safely covering her eyes.

“I don’t fucking care if you’re balls deep in each other’s asses right now, but you two need to get the fuck on stage!” she roars, and Gerard rolls his eyes.

“We’re decent, Laur, you can look,” he says tiredly, and she removes her hand from her eyes to glare at them both. 

“You’re ruining my fucking life,” she complains angrily and then points sternly at Gerard, “and you can’t go on stage like that, you need to wear a fucking shirt.”

Frank untangles himself from Gerard and says, “I’ll get him one,” and disappears into the dressing room next door. “Put some shoes on, babe,” he calls over his shoulder, and Lauren nods sternly in agreement and leaves.

When Frank comes back with a white button down shirt in his hands, Gerard has stepped into his leather boots and had a glance in the mirror to check his hair. (It looks fine. It’s actually kind of appropriate to have sex hair on stage, and Gerard is just glad there’s no semen in it this time. It has happened before.)

“I’m wearing fancy clothes today?” Gerard asks and puts the shirt on. “I was just thinking a t-shirt would be fine.”

Frank gives him a crooked smile and starts buttoning the shirt, from top to bottom, leaving the top buttons undone so the shirt is open and revealing at the collar, so much that in fact the hickey from before shows. (Frank wants to lick it, but resists.)

“Actually,” he says instead with a suggestive quirk of his eyebrow, “I chose this ‘cause it’ll be easier for me to tear it off you later,” and Gerard smirks as Frank smoothes the shirt out over his shoulders with soft caresses. 

Gerard leans in with a smile, brushing his lips teasingly over Frank’s, but before they can get too wrapped up in their little moment, Lauren comes in again and without a word grabs both their arms and drags them out of there (ignoring their protesting noises), pushing them back stage, where Mikey and Ray wait patiently with scowls on their faces.

“Fucking finally,” mutters Mikey, and Frank grabs his guitar from a tech and grins.

“You’re just jealous,” he says, and Mikey splutters and chokes.

“Eww,” he shudders in disgust, and then no one has time to say anything else because the house lights come on and it’s time for them to hit the stage. The fans scream when they walk out there, and Gerard grins and blows them a kiss, spreading his legs wide and bending at the waist, wincing at the pain/pleasure that shoots down his spine, and then they launch into Give ‘Em Hell, Kid and the crowd goes wild.

It’s actually a fucking awesome show, Gerard thinks half an hour later, because the crowd is happy and jumping and screaming along, and Ray’s solos take everyone by storm, and Mikey keeps grinning like a fucking madman and Gerard just knows this is going to be one of those shows that they remember for ages to come. Frank looks amazing, as always, whirling around on the stage like a fucking tornado, and he keeps looking back at Gerard and smirking, as if he knows just how much pain Gerard is in, as if he knows just how much it hurts whenever Gerard shakes his hips, and Gerard loves him. He mentions to the crowd how he loves getting fucked in the ass, and he hears Frank moan into his microphone as the fans scream. And later he licks the palm of his hand, a long stripe from the wrist to the very tip of his finger, and when Frank comes skipping past him Gerard wipes it off on Frank’s t-shirt, and Frank grins at him and it’s perfect. 

So when the show comes to an end, when Mikey and Ray shuffle off the stage and Dewees is about to start playing an interlude before Cancer, Gerard glances at Frank who sits down by an amp at the side of the stage and watches Gerard carefully, softly, and Gerard knows that making the decision to go for it isn’t hard at all. He strolls over to the dead mic and murmurs, “Dewees, we’re doing it,” and Dewees nods because he knows what Gerard is talking about. They’ve been planning it for a while.

“So,” says Gerard loudly into his own mic, purposely not looking at Frank as Dewees starts to play the intro to Coldplay’s Fix You (Frank’s number one favorite song; the one he says he always thinks about Gerard when he listens to), “this song goes out to my very special friend, who is in fact sitting right there.”

He turns to his left and sneaks a peek at Frank’s confused face, and smiles.

“This is by far Frank Iero’s favorite song, and I’ve never sung it to him before, but tonight might just be special,” he continues, and turns to speak directly to Frank. “I’m sorry I surprised you like this, but I know you never would have let me done it if you had known. So, this one’s for you, because I love you,” and the entire crowd goes, “Aww,” and Gerard thinks maybe he’s being a bit too obvious, seeing as how their relationship is a secret, but he doesn’t care. He sees Frank blush, even though it’s kind of dark on stage, and knows Frank doesn’t care either.

And when Gerard begins to sing the familiar words, tears almost build up into his eyes because of the emotions, and he forces himself to look out over the crowd as he sings the entire first verse because he doesn’t know if he can handle watching Frank right now. 

But when he gets to the chorus, when he sings about the lights that will guide Frank home, their light tech does an amazing fucking thing (which they did not rehearse beforehand; Gerard didn’t even fucking tell anyone but Dewees which song they were playing) and swoops a soft spotlight over the stage, beginning in Frank’s corner and ending pointed straight at Gerard. 

It’s possibly the most beautiful moment of Gerard’s life. It’s just the meaning of it that gets to him. He doesn’t even know if the light tech knows that they are together - they’ve only been caught in action by about half the crew, and the band and Lauren and their security guards are the only ones who know just how deep their relationship is and how much they love each other – but it still is a beautiful fucking thing that the light guy would send Frank to him by light. Just like the fucking song says. 

During the piano break between the two verses, Gerard sees Frank rise to his feet and walk closer to him, and he smiles and takes a deep breath to sing again. 

“When you’re too in love to let it go,” he sings with a smile and Frank clutches his hands over his heart and pretends to swoon, and it’s like the crowd completely fades away and all that exists is him, Frank, and the piano. So when he starts to sing the second chorus, he removes the mic from the mic stand and starts to cross the stage to come closer to Frank, and he sings straight to him because he means every word. Frank smiles.

“And I will try,” sings Gerard and reaches out a hand for Frank to take, “to fix you,” and they grasp hands just as the last note rings out and Dewees starts playing the intro to Cancer. 

But Frank doesn’t just take his hand and stop there; he keeps walking closer and before either of them has had the time to think, he slides a hand up Gerard’s chest and reaches up to kiss him, softly and sweetly, and as the crowd goes wild Gerard’s arms wrap tightly around Frank’s waist and they stand there, swaying in each other’s embrace for ages. Dewees has to play the intro over and over again, and when they finally break apart, they’re all smiles. The crowd screams and they know they’ve messed up, _bigtime_ , because they’re not allowed to be kissing, obviously - but right in that moment, they don’t care. Frank takes a few steps back with a smile, sitting down by the amp at the side of the stage again, and Gerard walks back to the mic stand to sing Cancer, and he can’t fucking remember the words.

The next three minutes are a complete blackout to Gerard. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, he doesn’t even really know if he exists, but when the song is over, Gerard reaches out a hand again for Frank to take, and helps him stand up. They walk off stage hand in hand, to the fans’ delight, and as soon as they’re hidden in darkness Gerard pushes Frank up against a wall and kisses him deeply, urgently.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” he whispers with a laugh against Frank’s lips, and Frank shakes his head.

“Me neither,” he admits with a tiny smile. “Hotel?”, because at times like these, when Gerard has completely killed all his brain cells by being cute, how could anyone expect him to be articulate?

Gerard smiles apologetically because he knows what Frank wants and he hates not being able to give it to him. “Encore set first. Then hotel.”

“Oh,” says Frank in a disappointed tone, and Gerard has to kiss him again so he does.

And then Mikey and Ray come out of their dressing room, and Lauren announces that it’s time to go on stage again for the encores, and Gerard just barely misses Mikey’s glare at him.

“You guys are disgusting and you’re not allowed to do that,” Mikey complains just before the house lights come on again. “… But it was kind of cute,” he adds quietly after a moment, but Gerard hears him anyway and follows him out on stage with a grin.

~ ~ ~ ~

The others in the band probably have an idea of what’s going on as their tourbus parks at the hotel and Frank and Gerard grab their bags and hop out of it immediately hand in hand, giggling like madmen. They run across the parking lot together, not bothering to look back to see if the others are coming as well, because they’ve got other, more important things on their minds.

(Back in the bus, Mikey and Ray roll their eyes tiredly at each other, bickering about who has to sleep in the room next to the lovebirds this time. They can’t escape hearing Frank and Gerard going at it on those nights when they sleep in the bus, but on their rare hotel nights, they would like to actually get some sleep.)

The woman at the reception desk looks less than amused when Frank and Gerard stumble into the foyer, laughing and touching and almost kissing and all in all being far too obvious. She raises an eyebrow tiredly at them and blows a bubble with her gum when they reach her desk, handing over their passports with polite smiles that she doesn’t return. She throws the passports a quick glance and types their names in on her computer, and thank heaven their names and faces don’t seem to ring a bell anywhere in her mind - which means they can continue being cuddly and sweet and in love even though they’re in public.

(Gerard really loves the fact that they’re really not as famous as one would think.)

“Which one is Way?” she asks in a lazy voice, and Gerard raises a hand goofily. She pushes a keycard over the desk to him. “You’re on the third floor,” she continues, “and you, the other guy, are on the eighth,” and she pushes another card towards Frank, who only smirks and pushes it back to her.

“That won’t be necessary,” he giggles, and she raises her eyebrows in disbelief. But Gerard grabs Frank by the arm and drags him away from there into the elevator before she has the time to say anything – or worse, realize who they are. 

When the elevator door closes behind them, Frank pushes a grinning Gerard against the mirror wall. His hands find their way underneath the hem of Gerard’s shirt, splaying over his hips, and Gerard reaches behind him to press the third button. The elevator starts to rattle and shake as it makes its way upstairs, and they can’t keep their eyes off of each other. 

On the second floor, a hotel-porter in a stupid red suit comes into the elevator, his eyes widening when he sees two full-grown men practically making out. Gerard giggles into Frank’s shoulder, because Frank is stupid and mean and tells the poor kid that he has nice shoes. The porter’s freckled face reddens, and he looks up into the ceiling to escape them, as Frank’s hands slides higher up underneath Gerard’s shirt.

Basically, the stupid elevator ride is too slow, but as soon as it stops on their floor, they fall out of the elevator, laughing. They hear the poor kid let out a sigh in relief when they leave, and Gerard squeezes Frank’s hand and pulls him into a corridor. It kind of takes them forever to find Gerard’s room in the maze that is the hotel hallways, but as soon as the keycard is pushed in, the door is swung open and they’ve both got in, Gerard turns around swiftly on his heel and slams Frank against the door, kissing him desperately with a throaty moan. 

Frank kisses back eagerly with a soft laugh, hooking a leg behind Gerard’s, grinding up against him. It’s perfect, really, and Gerard sucks on Frank’s tongue lightly and bucks his hips down, shoving Frank’s t-shirt up and off, throwing it to the floor. And making out is obviously much better when there’s bare skin involved, so they both feel pretty good.

This lasts for about three seconds, before Gerard gets impatient because he really can’t wait to get his mouth on Frank. He has been wanting it for _hours_. So he shoves Frank’s jeans down and gets down to his knees, sucking him in greedily, moaning like a pornstar and fluttering his long eyelashes as his cheeks hollow. Frank grabs his hair and keeps him in place steadily, even though they both know that there is nowhere else Gerard would rather be right now.

“Fuck,” Frank breaths out, “you look so fucking good down on your knees. You were _made_ for sucking cock, Gerard.”

Gerard lets out a soft moan, causing vibrations around Frank, and relaxes his throat to swallow as much of him down as he can. And Frank knows what he wants; so he starts thrusting hard, hitting the back of Gerard’s throat with every push, and Gerard just sits back and takes it, sucking hard and making tiny noises of encouragement.

“You little cockslut,” Frank smirks and shoves his hips forward particularly hard, making Gerard almost gag, before pulling back completely, rubbing the head of his cock softly over Gerard’s cheeks and jaw. Gerard’s lips are sore and red and bruised, and Frank never wants to stop staring. “You’ve got a pornstar mouth, Gee. You just love sucking my cock, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Gerard moans, mouthing softly at the tip, “I really do.”

“You little fucking cockslut,” Frank says again with a slight grin, thrusting forward, letting his cock slide over Gerard’s cheek.

“It’s my middle name,” Gerard says with a quirk of his eyebrow, smiling up at Frank as he licks slowly over the base of his cock. “Gerard Cockslut Way. It says so on my driver’s license.”

“Fucking serves you right,” says Frank firmly, tightening his hand in Gerard’s hair and dragging his head away, pushing the tip of his cock against Gerard’s lips.

When Gerard sucks him in again and wraps a hand around the base of his cock, firmly stroking what his mouth can’t reach, it doesn’t take long before Frank is spilling himself down Gerard’s throat. The singer smiles around his mouthful of dick and swallows it all down eagerly, and then he gets pulled up by his hair, and claimed in a messy kiss. 

“Fuck,” Frank breathes into the kiss with a smile, “you just keep getting better and better.”

And Gerard smirks, flicking his tongue over Frank’s bottom lip teasingly before pulling away. “After ten years of doing this, I think I’ve got a fair bit of practice. I know how to suck you, baby.”

“Yes,” Frank agrees, kissing him eagerly again, “you really fucking do.”

They scramble over to the bed, and the clothes come off on the way (thankfully Gerard’s not wearing his stage jeans), and by the time they fall together onto the pillows, Frank is already kind of hard again. 

(Okay, so maybe he’s not hard, per se. But his dick has definitely come to life again. All it takes is usually a naked Gerard to do the trick.)

Gerard leans down over Frank, kissing him softly. “I love you,” he whispers against his lips, and it’s how they both know the cockslut act is officially over. Because as fun as it is, they usually can’t keep it up for more than a couple of hours at a time, without falling back into sappy-loveydovey-cute mode.

“Suck,” Gerard demands and taps his fingers over Frank’s lips, and he immediately opens up, sucking Gerard’s fingers in as far as he can take them. He swirls his tongue around them, conjuring up as much saliva as he can, and when Gerard pulls them out, trailing them down Frank’s body, they’re slick and wet.

“I love you,” Gerard smiles again and leans down to kiss Frank, teasing a finger over Frank’s puckered entrance before pushing his finger all the way in at once, earning a hissing gasp to escape from Frank’s lips.

Gerard prepares him softly and lovingly, peppering butterfly kisses all over Frank’s chest as he adds a second finger, and then a third, moving them in and out slowly as he scissors them. The lack of lube doesn’t really create a problem, because Gerard is so used to doing this, and he knows exactly what to do to make it as comfortable for Frank as possible.

Even though he has Frank whining and writhing and whimpering after less than a minute, Gerard doesn’t pull his fingers out until he can see that Frank is fully hard again, but to his credit, it actually doesn’t take very long. Frank’s there with just a few gentle pushes against his prostate, and then Gerard slides his fingers out, and moves to hover over Frank with a teasing smile on his lips. 

“Fuck me,” says Frank, leaning up to kiss Gerard, who only pulls away a few inches, smirking.

“Magic word?” he grins with an eyebrow raised in question, and Frank scowls and sits up, leaning on his elbows, biting Gerard’s bottom lip hard.

“Fine,” Gerard laughs, the sound a little muffled by Frank’s lips, and he grabs the base of his cock and guides it swiftly into Frank with a soft moan.

He gasps, suddenly short of breath, as Frank shivers underneath him, clenching around his cock in pulses, trying to get accustomed to the feeling. It drives Gerard crazy, feeling the hot walls around him contract tightly, but he just shivers with a smile and presses a soft kiss to the corner of Frank’s eye, not wanting to rush him. 

And it’s not like Frank’s a virgin – not by any means – so it actually doesn’t take more than a few deep breaths for him to relax. He slides a hand up Gerard’s chest with a smile, and Gerard grins and leans down to kiss him, pushing his hips forward for the first time.

After all these years, nothing is really a surprise for them anymore. Gerard knows how it’s going to feel when Frank clenches around him, and he knows what angle he should thrust into to get to Frank’s prostate, and he knows that when Frank buries his nails in Gerard’s back, it’s a silent message for him to go harder. Just as easily as Frank can tell when Gerard is in cockslut mode, Gerard knows by instinct how Frank wants him to make him feel. 

Gerard slides a hand under Frank’s thigh, tugging his leg up and hooking it over his shoulder to get a better angle to thrust deeper inside. Frank moans with a smile as Gerard leans forward to kiss him, almost bending him in half, and as they tremble and writhe, Gerard lets out a soft moan against Frank’s lips. He smiles into the kiss when he feels Frank’s cock bump against his stomach, fully hard again, and as Frank drags his nails slowly down Gerard’s spine, the singer slides a finger teasingly down the length of his cock, biting Frank’s bottom lip lightly as he thrusts in hard and keeps his the tip of his cock pressed firmly against Frank’s spot for a couple of seconds.

“F-fuck,” Frank moans into his mouth, “Gee, don’t stop –“, and Gerard watches with a grin as Frank shoots his load all over his chest, trembling through his release. His inner walls contract tightly around Gerard, who leans down to hide his moan in Frank’s mouth.

And it doesn’t take long for Gerard to lose it; it _never_ does. It takes a few more thrusts of hips and eager kisses for him to reach the edge as well, and when he feels the familiar tightening in his stomach, he bites down hard on Frank’s pulse point and pulls out all the way, starting to come against his hole. The throaty moan that falls from his lips is mostly muffled into Frank’s sweaty skin, and as he pushes just the tip of his cock inside again, the slide in is easy and Gerard never knew that semen could be so effectively used as lube.

“Gerard, amazing,” says Frank breathlessly with a smile as Gerard snaps his hips forward again after a second, thrusting all the way inside again and continuing to come inside him, his hips moving in sharp circles as he rides out the pulses. 

“Christ, Frankie, so perfect,” Gerard manages to get out, pressing tiny kisses over Frank’s neck as his trembles slowly subside. He stills his hip movements, licking his way over Frank’s jaw, and just smiles down at him. They’re both breathing heavily, their skin slippery with sweat, and as Gerard slides a hand up Frank’s chest, he can kind of feel his heart racing underneath the palm of his hand.

There’s a soft smile on Frank’s lips, and Gerard wants to kiss him so he does. It’s always perfect like this, just sharing oxygen and calming down, before going to sleep, and Gerard loves nights like this. Nights when they have all the time in the world to just be together. Breathing heavily against each other’s lips, they run their hands slowly over each other’s bodies, and as they break apart, Gerard leans his forehead against Frank’s, closing his eyes with a soft sigh. He feels Frank’s hot breath shakily hit his skin with every breath he takes, and with a shiver, he feels his dick kind of coming to life again.

“What…” mumbles Frank tiredly, clearly having felt Gerard’s cock twitch inside him. “Go t’sleep.”

And Gerard smiles fondly and presses a soft kiss to the corner of his eye, lifting his hand to his mouth and slowly licking away the tiny traces of come on his fingers, moaning quietly at the taste.

“What’re you doing?” Frank says with a cute little confused frown, only kind of keeping his eyes open to watch Gerard, who smiles and runs his wet fingers lightly over his lips, before slowly sliding down Frank’s body, his cock slipping out of his ass gently as he goes. And Gerard can’t keep his eyes off of Frank’s chest, slowly heaving up and down, streaks of white staining the black ink, and he licks his lips and knows what he wants.

“What…” says Frank again through a yawn when Gerard attaches his mouth to the swallow on Frank’s hip with a smile. “M’sleep,” he protests halfheartedly as Gerard slides his tongue over the skin softly, moaning as he licks Frank’s chest clean of all traces of come. 

“Baby,” Frank murmurs sleepily, “not that this isn’t amazing… but sleep. Now.”

“Shut up and let me fix you,” Gerard whispers with a smile against his skin, and a line of incomprehensible mumbles fall from Frank’s lips in response, but Gerard thinks even through the haze of sleepiness, he can still hear the smile in Frank’s voice.

Gerard ignores him and bites down lightly on his hipbone, before softly kissing his way down to Frank’s cock. And Frank has no choice but to wake up completely, and lets out a soft moan as Gerard takes the tip of his cock into his mouth, flicking his tongue into the slit and carefully licking all the come away with a soft moan, before pulling back and kissing the birds on Frank’s hips again. 

“Baby,” he whispers huskily against Frank’s warm skin, “you’ve gotta turn over for me.”

There’s a pause for a second, before Frank lets out a soft gasp in realization. The shiver that runs down his spine does not go by unnoticed, and Gerard grins as the guitarist quickly scrambles around in the bed, kneeling and leaning his head on his forearms, his ass sticking up into the air. Gerard’s mouth waters at the sight of it.

Now, Frank Iero has an incredible ass. It’s quite amazing, actually, and delicious and gorgeous and perfect. But like _this_ , it’s even better. Because it’s red and bruised and swollen, the pucker quivering in anticipation, and to top it off, there’s come slowly dripping out from inside, wetting the hole and making the sight irresistible for Gerard. (It really shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone that Gerard Way really has a thing for semen. There’s a reason he loves to suck cock so much.)

“Fuck,” he breathes out, licking his lips, “you look so fucking delicious, Frankie.” 

And Frank lets out a soft whimper as Gerard spreads his cheeks with his hands, licking a firm stripe from the top of his crack all the way down to his balls, before pressing a tiny kiss to the puckered entrance, moaning at the familiar taste of come and _Frank_. 

“Gee,” Frank begs as Gerard’s tongue briefly flickers over his hole, “ _please_ ,” but this is not about Frank. Not really. This is about Gerard and his desperate need to taste, and he grins against Frank’s skin before pushing the tip of his tongue through the tight ring of muscle, a shiver running through both their bodies.

Gerard moans into Frank’s skin and points his tongue, pushing it inside as far as he can, and when he pulls it out again, a stream of come follows and he watches with hungry eyes as it slowly trickles out of Frank’s ass, before he greedily licks it all away. He loves this; the musky scent of man, the bitter taste of come and the slippery feeling of Frank’s sweaty skin under his tongue. Gerard smiles and can’t believe how lucky he is when he feels Frank’s muscles trembling underneath his touch, and he presses a gentle kiss to the pucker again, flicking his tongue teasingly over Frank’s rim.

It’s at times like these when Gerard really wishes they were twenty again. Because as much as he loves this, and no matter how sexy and amazing and erotic this is, he knows there is no way either of them is going to get it up again. Not tonight, at least. Being on the wrong side of thirty (well, the wrong side of thirty _five_ , in Gerard’s case) kind of sucks. So Gerard is kind of sad that they didn’t make the most of it back in the day, when they were still young and had stamina and their dicks just couldn’t get enough of each other. Back then, they never did anything like this. Back then, it was drunken blowjobs at parties and messy handjobs at truck stops and maybe, _maybe_ a quick fuck in the back of the van when the others were asleep, but they were still both too young and scared and inexperienced to really experiment. (But Gerard is still kind of thankful that even if he has wasted ten years not doing this, he can at least do it all he wants _now._ )

“Please, Gerard,” Frank begs quietly, pushing his ass back against Gerard’s eager mouth, and the singer grins and slaps his left cheek playfully.

“Stay in place, baby,” he murmurs into warm skin, lightly biting down on his cheek, before swiftly moving his lips over to Frank’s entrance again, sucking softly at his rim, moaning when a soft trickle of come touches his lips, running from inside. Gerard drinks it all in greedily and sucks harder, the last of his come dribbling out into his mouth. 

And then Gerard sits back for a second, just watching the white pearls of semen slowly seep out of Frank’s quivering, bruised hole, and he kind of wishes he had a pencil. Because this is such a beautiful image, Frank looking back over his shoulder with pleading eyes, and his wet pucker shivering with anticipation, drops of silvery white slowly sliding out of him. And the hotel room makes everything looks so much prettier, too. The dark purple silk sheets, and the grey shadows all around, and in the centre of the picture; Frank Iero, wet and loose and sweaty and _perfect_. It would make for a perfect masterpiece. Gerard can already see it before his eyes. The curve of Frank’s ass, his tattoos glistening with sweat, standing out against his golden skin, his neck arched in pleasure; it would make for some gorgeous artwork. (And he kind of wants to hang the picture over his mantelpiece in his living room, but he knows Lindsey would never go for it.)

But Gerard left his bag in the tourbus, and he doesn’t have a pencil. He doesn’t have a sketch book. He doesn’t even have a fucking napkin to doodle on. He _does_ , however, have an iPhone in the pocket of his jeans lying somewhere on the floor. And that is pretty much the next best thing, because that means Gerard can save the image and draw it later.

“Fuck, Frankie,” he breathes out, “you have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are. You’re like a fucking work of art, so perfect, I wish I could paint you right here, I want to keep this forever, you should really see yourself right now, baby.”

And soft noises of encouragement fall from Frank’s lip in a breathy haste, but Gerard doesn’t hear. He bends down over the edge of the bed, reaching for his jeans on the floor, and quickly fishes his phone out of a pocket.

“Don’t move,” he says sternly, placing a hand firmly on Frank’s hip to pin him down, and Frank doesn’t protest, he doesn’t even turn back to see what Gerard is doing. But when the soft noise of the camera phone snapping pictures resonates through the room, he looks back over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t worry,” says Gerard reassuringly, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to the top of Frank’s crack, “I’m only going to post these on our website. And maybe on twitter.”

And Frank scowls but doesn’t move, and even flashes Gerard a tiny smile, clenching his ass in front of Gerard’s hungry eyes with a grin. “You wouldn’t,” he laughs softly, a shiver running down his spine as Gerard takes another photo, and they both know it’s true.

“No,” Gerard agrees, leaning back to get a clearer shot of the entire scene. “These are for my eyes only. I’m not sharing you, you’re _mine_.”

And as Gerard takes a step back from the bed, taking a picture of the entire room with Frank trembling in the middle, he thinks the only way this picture could possibly be better would be if he was in it too. For a brief, crazy moment, the thought to hire a photographer for a night hits Gerard, but he shakes the thought away quickly, because he knows they could never get away with it. Not to mention, Frank definitely would not let him eat his ass out in front of someone else, especially if said someone had a _camera_.

So Gerard sets his phone down on a table across from the bed, and leans it against a vase to keep it upright. It has a special setting that makes the phone snap fifteen pictures per minute on autopilot, and Gerard skips over to the bed quickly with a grin when he hears the little noise indicating that a picture has been taken.

Frank lets out a surprised yelp as Gerard wastes no time, just spreads Frank open again and buries his tongue deep inside him, before pulling out and teasing the tip of his tongue over Frank’s puckered entrance, licking over the last traces of come. His phone makes distant noises in the background, and Gerard remembers to tilt his head to the side to give a better angle of Frank’s ass, making sure he’s not covering anything from the camera. 

“We probably make a really pretty picture,” he murmurs into Frank’s skin, a soft laugh falling from his lips, and feeling Frank quiver underneath his touch, Gerard takes his time, carefully licking away all the come he can find, before finally sucking hard at the rim, smiling against Frank’s skin when nothing happens, and nothing more comes out.

“You’re all clean and good to go,” he whispers, pressing butterfly kisses over Frank’s pucker, before kissing his way up Frank’s back again with a smile. “Who needs showers, after all?” he grins into the crook of Frank’s neck, and Frank turns around underneath him with a soft laugh, sliding his arms around his neck and kissing Gerard with smiling lips. 

“ _You_ need showers,” he counters, laughing against Gerard’s eager lips, and on the other side of the room, the iPhone vibrates once before settling down into sleep mode, but neither of them notice. 

“Later,” Gerard decides through a yawn, rolling off of Frank and pulling the covers over their bodies, smiling as Frank curls up against him instantly, resting his head on Gerard’s chest. “Sleep first. Then showers. Maybe.”

And Frank lets out a yawn, pressing a tiny kiss to Gerard’s collarbone, and Gerard figures that he probably agrees. 

“I promise I’ll draw you that pretty picture in the morning,” he whispers with a small smile, shivering in anticipation of the images waiting for him in his phone, but Frank doesn’t say anything. He’s already out like a light.

Okay, thinks Gerard, and falls asleep as well.

~ ~ ~ ~ 

And okay, Gerard thinks again the next morning, maybe Frank was right. Maybe Gerard really _does_ need showers. 

Not because he’s dirty (he only showered three days ago, and really, he doesn’t smell that bad), but because the shower in their hotel room is pretty amazing. It has one of those huge massage shower heads, and the whole bathroom is gorgeous with black tiles and a massive mirror wall, and the whole place is made for fucking, basically. Gerard doesn’t know what he’d rather watch; the Frank in his arms who’s kissing him eagerly, or the two wet, naked, pretty boys in the mirror, kissing and touching and looking gorgeous. (And yes, shut up, Gerard likes to call them ‘boys’, because it makes him feel younger.)

“You look really gorgeous,” he whispers against Frank’s lips with a tiny smile, and Frank only slides a hand slowly down his spine, lightly biting down on Gerard’s bottom lip.

“You sound surprised,” he grins and teases a finger down the crease of Gerard’s crack, and the singer lets out a soft moan, shaking his head.

“Not at all,” he breathes out when Frank pushes his finger lightly against his pucker, only teasing, not pushing in. “I’m just not used to seeing us together.”

And Frank looks back over his shoulder to watch them in the mirror, smiling at the image of them both. The water spraying down on them is heavy and warm, and Gerard feels kind of like he’s standing in a summer rain, just letting the water soak him as Frank’s kisses warms him from the inside out. (He makes a mental note to maybe write a song about that later.)

“We really should get used to it. We could get a video camera,” Frank suggests, looking back at Gerard with a wicked grin. “Or we could put mirrors up in the ceiling of your bunk.”

And Gerard shivers, ducking his head and kissing Frank’s neck eagerly. “Or we could do both,” he whispers to the scorpion on his neck. (He decides not to tell Frank about his idea of the photographer. At least not quite yet.)

Frank’s finger pushes down more insistently over Gerard’s rim, and the soft pain that shoots down Gerard’s spine has him shuddering with pleasure. This is kind of one of the best parts about getting fucked roughly, Gerard thinks; the pain stays for _days_ and all it takes is the tiniest of touches for Gerard to get reminded of what it felt like. Who he belongs to. What he wants. 

Frank knows this, naturally. 

“You like that, huh?” he murmurs huskily into Gerard’s warm skin, sucking lightly on his collar bone. “You like feeling me fill you up, I know you do. You can’t get enough, this hurts so fucking good that you don’t know what to do with yourself. Am I right?”

He circles the tips of his fingers hard over Gerard’s sore and bruised rim, and an indecent moan rises from Gerard’s chest as he leans forward to catch Frank’s lips with his own in an eager kiss. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Frank smirks against his lips, wrapping a hand tightly around Gerard’s cock, stroking firmly. His other hand keeps rubbing hard over Gerard’s entrance, and Gerard doesn’t know what he wants the most anymore. Everything is just a haze.

“You’re killing all my brain cells, Iero,” he manages to get out in a breathy voice, and Frank grins and bites down on his shoulder hard. 

“Are you complaining?” he counters, briefly twisting his hand over the head of Gerard’s cock, and Gerard moans and snaps his hips forward into Frank’s hand, letting his head drop down onto his shoulder. 

“Not at all,” he groans as Frank’s hand tightens around him, and he drags his nails down Frank’s spine, feeling him shiver underneath his touch. 

“You should touch me,” Frank suggests, pushing his fingers firmer against Gerard’s rim to prove a point (and _wow_ , that hurts in a kind of really amazing way), and Gerard smiles with a breathy moan, wrapping his hand around Frank’s cock. 

And the two naked, wet, pretty boys in the mirror still look kind of perfect, their arms wrapped tightly around each other. Gerard can’t really see Frank’s hand in his ass, but he _can_ see both their cocks, being stroked firmly in a slow rhythm, the tips lightly brushing against each other as they both move. The boy with his back to the mirror looks wonderful, gorgeous, with the tattoos rippling over his back and shoulders. The jack-o-lantern in between his shoulder blades grins evilly at Gerard, tiny pearls of water slowly sliding down Frank’s skin. It’s stunning and Gerard can’t look away. 

“There should _always_ be a camera on you,” he murmurs softly into Frank’s shoulder, peppering tiny kisses over his warm, wet skin. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, all the time, and so much of it just goes to waste. I wish I could look at you forever.”

Frank grins and starts stroking Gerard harder, pushing the tip of his finger inside Gerard’s entrance. “You should buy Kerrang, then. Or go on YouTube. My face all over that shit, you know,” he smirks, biting down on his collarbone again, earning a light moan from Gerard.

“Yeah,” the singer agrees breathily, “but your cock and ass aren’t. And to be honest, I see your face all the fucking time. Cock and ass, though? Not as much.”

Frank lets out a breathy laugh (or is it a moan?) into Gerard’s skin, rubbing his fingers hard over his rim while flicking a thumb teasingly over the head of his cock. “You’ve got a bunch of pics now, though,” he whispers, sucking lightly on Gerard’s neck. “You can use one as wallpaper in your phone.”

“Oh, believe me, I fucking will,” Gerard moans, and it’s kind of embarrassing, but the thought of the pictures of Frank’s wet hole, glistening with come, waiting for him – even though he hasn’t even seen the pictures yet – makes him tremble all over, and with a soft moan, he comes all over Frank’s hand.

“Wow,” Frank laughs, sliding both his hands up Gerard’s sides again and looping his arms around his neck. “I’m gonna go ahead and take credit for that.”

And Gerard laughs softly and crashes their lips together, kissing him eagerly with a smile on his face. He starts to jack Frank harder, grinning when a throaty moan falls from the guitarist’s chest, and he nips lightly on Frank’s bottom lip before pulling away with a crooked smile.

“You know,” he muses with a playful quirk of an eyebrow, “I think you were right last night. I _do_ need a shower.”

“Good for you that you’re already _in_ the fucking shower, then,” Frank says, rolling his eyes and thrusting forward into Gerard’s hand.

“No,” says Gerard and licks a stripe down Frank’s neck, “I don’t like this shower.” And then he kisses his way down Frank’s body, his tongue swirling over the black ink. Frank’s eyes widen when Gerard gets to his knees, mouthing softly at the tip of Frank’s cock, smirking up at him. 

“I want _your_ shower,” he whispers, and Frank lets out a soft moan, snapping his hips forward once into the hot cavern of Gerard’s mouth.

“Nuh-uh,” Gerard objects, pulling away completely, flicking his tongue teasingly over Frank’s cockhead with a grin. “Not in my mouth, darling. I want a fucking _shower_.”

And _oh_ , Frank thinks with a shiver, swallowing audibly. They haven’t done _that_ in a while. (Or well, actually, they have. They do it quite a lot. But it still feels kind of new to Frank every fucking time.)

Gerard watches with a smirk as Frank curls a hand around his erection, and he sits back on his heels, just waiting. And Frank wastes no time; he starts to jerk himself off quickly, firmly, rubbing the head of his cock harshly over Gerard’s face. 

“You’re just going to sit back and take it, you filthy little cockslut,” he hisses out breathily, easily slipping back into dirty talk mode, because he knows that’s what Gerard wants. “If you move, slut, you’re going to be so fucking sorry. You better fucking stay in your place, you better be ready to take what I can give you.”

Gerard lets out a tiny moan, sliding his hands up over Frank’s thighs and gripping his ass tightly, pulling him closer. “That’s right,” he whispers, “I can take it, just come for me, please, I need it…”

“It’s not yours until I give it to you, slut,” Frank says sternly, stroking himself harder and faster. “And you will be grateful. Won’t you?”

“Y-yes,” Gerard stutters out through a soft moan, closing his eyes and licking his lips as Frank moans, the first pulse of come striking Gerard over his cheek. “So fucking grateful, thank you,” Gerard whispers as Frank shoots all over his face, and the water running down on them kind of washes most of it away, but Gerard can still lick his lips and taste the familiar substance vaguely. 

And Frank slides down into Gerard’s arms, kissing him softly as they curl up together on the bathroom floor, warm summer rain still pouring down over their sweaty bodies as they try to catch their breath.

“You’ve got come in your hair,” Frank whispers with a soft laugh against Gerard’s lips, and he raises a hand to brush the semen away, but Gerard grabs his hand and kisses his tattooed knuckles, smiling.

“Leave it,” he says, kissing the pads of Frank’s fingertips softly. “It feels like home.”

And they both know the water will eventually wash it away, but they stay under the soothing spray anyway, just resting in each other’s arms, because after all, showering _is_ pretty great.

~ ~ ~ ~

Later, when they’re back on the bus again, going to an MTV studio, Frank comes over and hooks his chin over Gerard’s shoulder where he sits, breathlessly scrolling through the pictures in his phone as he tries to settle on which one to paint.

“You’re hard,” Frank murmurs in his ear, pressing a tiny kiss to his neck. “It’s written all over your face. You need to be more careful.”

“But fucking _look_ at this,” Gerard protests, showing Frank the screen, and he smiles when he hears Frank’s breath hitch in his chest. “Kind of beautiful, huh?”, and he feels Frank nod against his skin.

“You should send me that one,” Frank suggests, kissing Gerard’s shoulder softly, “but you need to be really careful not to post it somewhere. Remember what happened to Hayley Williams?”

Gerard frowns. “Who the fuck is Hayley Williams?”, and Frank rolls his eyes tiredly.

“That redhead kid in Paramore,” he explains and flicks his thumb over Gerard’s screen, smiling as a new picture appears. “Don’t you remember? She was going to send a nude pic of herself to her boyfriend, and accidentally posted it on twitter. That _cannot_ happen with us, or I swear, I will castrate you.”

And Gerard snorts with laughter, sending Frank one of the pictures. “I remember seeing that picture. _I’ve_ got bigger boobs than she does,” he grins, and Frank bites him lightly on the shoulder.

“That’s not a good thing for either of you, baby, and it does not make you sound cooler than her,” he smirks, and lets out a soft laugh as Gerard pushes him away with a playful scowl.

And later, when they’re sitting in a fancy leather sofa in front of an audience of one hundred people, Gerard twirls his phone in between his fingers and he kind of can’t stop smiling. Frank keeps looking at him with this tiny, knowing little smirk, and the bitemark on Gerard’s jaw is bright and throbbing and obvious despite all the makeup the MTV people threw on him, and neither of them cares. Gerard smiles back at Frank, and it’s all kind of perfect.

“So, last night during your show, something rather interesting happened,” MTV’s interviewer smirks at the band somewhere in the middle of the interview. “I think we have a picture, actually…”

Gerard feels a blush starting to creep up onto his face as a picture of last night’s kiss turns up on the big screen, and Frank bumps his shoulder softly into Gerard’s with a grin. The audience laughs, but Gerard for some reason doesn’t feel scared. He feels like this is just kind of beautiful.

“Care to tell us what was going on?” the MTV guy asks, and Gerard looks to his right with a tiny smile, seeing that Frank too is a little flushed.

“Er…” says Frank, biting his lip, “well…”

“Basically,” Gerard cuts in, “it’s all Chris Martin’s fault, really.”

He doesn’t really hear the people in the studio start to laugh, and he doesn’t see Mikey roll his eyes. Frank smiles at him, and that’s all Gerard knows.

“Yeah,” Frank giggles, “he wrote a song that completely ruins me, and I hold him responsible for my actions.”

“Yeah,” says Gerard with a soft laugh, and the interviewer raises an eyebrow at him.

“But why did you decide to play that song, then?”

Gerard shrugs with a tiny smirk. “We were supposed to play another song, officially, but I wanted to surprise Frankie because I know how much Fix You means to him. So me and Dewees rehearsed it a few times secretly, and then during the show I decided to just go for it. I didn’t know I’d get quite that big a reward for it, though,” he laughs, and feels a little tickle in his stomach when Frank lets out a soft snort too.

“Yeah,” Frank agrees, “what can I say? Fix You just gets me. I couldn’t control myself.”

“It’s all Chris Martin’s fault,” Gerard smirks.

“Yeah,” Frank says through a laugh, “it really is!”

“Actually,” Gerard says, raising an eyebrow jokingly, “I think Chris Martin wrote that song about _us_. Right?”

“Of course,” Frank nods, dead serious, “so he’s the one to blame.”

The interviewer rolls his eyes and sighs, and Gerard figures he probably wants to get this interview back on track again. “Any plans of doing an actual cover of Fix You?”

“You have to do that,” Frank begs, turning to Gerard with pleading eyes. “I need it on my iPod. Because it’s so much better when _you_ sing it, and I want to be able to listen to it always.”

“Honey,” says Gerard with a smile, putting a comforting hand on Frank’s thigh, hoping it’ll come across as an innocent gesture, “I’ll sing it to you any time you want.”

The smile on Frank’s face is blinding.

**The End.**

**Author's Note:**

> Comment here or on my [masterpost](http://maybegasoline.livejournal.com/11133.html) on LJ!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for maybegasoline's 'It's All Chris Martin's Fault, Basically'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/497364) by [turlough](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turlough/pseuds/turlough)




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